Caresse sur l'océan
by Blake0Tyler
Summary: Maybe he belongs up there. Fred, George, Angelina. One-shot.


**A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I wrote anything. I've been suffering quite a lot from writer's block, but this might be a good way to get it out of the way :) It is quite long and not I'm not equally happy with each individual part. But let me know what you think in a review! It would honestly make my day. – Lauren**

:::

"_Enfin ton soufflé s'éloigne_

_Loin dans les montagnes"_

_- Caresse sur l'océan – Les Choristes_

"_Finally your breath moves away_

_Far in the mountains"_

_- Caresse sur l'océan – Les Choristes _

:::

**a tiny confession.**

:::

When Fred Weasley asked her to go to the Yule Ball with him, all those years ago, in the time that Hogwarts was still a proud castle instead of the burning destruction that it is right now, she actually considered saying 'no'.

After all, it wasn't the perfect fairy tale moment.

Just a shout for attention – _"Oi! Angelina!" _– a confident, slightly arrogant smile – "_Want to come to the ball with me?" _– and a mischievous wink when she thought it over for a second and eventually agreed, before turning his attention back to his younger brother to rub it in his face.

She thinks she fell in love with him that second, any way.

:::

**the worst feeling in the world.**

:::

He sees his brother and for one_ ice cold _second he thinks it might be a joke.

But then the truth of the image in front of his eyes gets through to him and he loses count of absolutely everything. Minutes, hours, days, months, centuries – he has no idea how much time is passing or for how long he's been standing there in the middle of the Great Hall, just screaming; a horrible, awful sound that he doesn't even recognize as himself, just as harsh and hollow as the entire battle all together. None of it makes sense from where he's standing. And he doesn't even care.

Someone pulls him backwards, shouting to get out of the way, casting several spells to protect him from the attacking death eaters around him, but he can't respond.

"_George_!"

He crashes down against the cold, hard floor, not able to keep standing for another second.

This, he thinks, sitting with his back against the wall, while someone – a girl, Katie he guesses – is trying to fight the death eaters away from him, must be the worst kind of heartbreak.

Feeling like every single cell inside of you is dying.

:::

**just a thought.**

:::

Summer, fireworks, pillow fights with screaming laughter and dangerously walking on the edge of the Burrow's roof at night, even though your mum would kill you if she knew; none of it will never feel like this again.

:::

**the end of everything.**

:::

Even though she'd been friends with both of them (because like it or not, it wasn't even humanly possible to see them apart from each other for even one second) everything at Hogwarts had still always kind of, slightly been a little bit more about Fred.

He'd been her first kiss, accidentally and meaningless and a little bit clumsy. But still a first kiss, and one she would never forget in her entire life.

He'd been the first one to really, _honestly _know what she was all about; whether it was the fact that they both had made the Quidditch team (she'll never forget the way he hugged her so tightly, making them both collapse against the ground, _laughing, laughing, laughing_) or the angry, bitchy fights she could have with Alicia sometimes (because true friends are the only ones who can make you love them and drive you completely insane at the exact same time); he'd always see right through her and somehow he'd always sort of know, even before she actually told him.

He'd been the one to lend her his sweatshirts after long practices in ice cold rain, the one to race her all the way around the Black Lake, the one to loosen her up from her tight 'I only care about school work and Quidditch' attitude, to make her laugh, even though she'd rather stay angry at him for doing something utterly stupid and typical Fred again.

He wasn't the perfect gentleman. Godric, no. He'd be stubborn and arrogant from time to time. He'd be irritating, frustrating and he'd always fight back, even during the tiniest little arguments, as if he needed the satisfaction of winning just as much as she did.

But he'd also make her laugh and he understood her like no one else at Hogwarts and through it all, most importantly, he had been her friend, her _best friend_, even during the short time they'd been dating, and it had counted more than anything else in the world.

She sees his body on the ground – _cold_ and _dead _and _lifeless _– and for the entire minute that it takes her to get to him, it feels like she's either falling or crashing or dying.

She doesn't no which one is real.

:::

**just a thought.**

:::

Making homework on top of the astronomy tower, scowling at him for getting you in detention but laughing anyway, talking about dreams and Quidditch and playing Wizard chess with him, even though you actually despise the game; none of it will ever feel like this again.

:::

**the difference.**

:::

They look _exactly_ alike, she thinks, as he catches her eye for the first time since it happened, since Harry finally killed Voldemort, exactly six hours and twenty two minutes ago.

Same hair, same eyes, same lips, same nose, same freckles. Same _bloody _everything.

But you see, there's actually a rather big difference between Fred and George, and she's seconds away from finding out.

He walks up to her, making his way through the crowd of people, until he's finally standing in front of her. She waits for it. She waits to hear his voice. She _needs _him to say something to her, because Fred used to _say _what he was feeling, whether it was anger or happiness or frustration or grief. And she doesn't think she can actually find the courage to voice her own thoughts, so she _needs _him to be the one to do it.

But he doesn't.

George Weasley walks straight into her embrace and he doesn't say a word.

They stand there together for the longest time, and it's the most silent melody of grief she's ever experienced.

:::

**scary things in life.**

:::

Coming to think of it, there are actually a lot of things she's been scared about throughout her life; snakes, angry teachers, failing exams, accidentally breaking her neck during a Quidditch match, Sirius Black on the night he broke into Hogwarts and tons and tons of other things.

Really, she had no idea what she was talking about.

:::

**a funeral and messed up feelings.**

:::

She holds his hand the entire time through.

He keeps brushing away her tears, even though he's the one to cry the most.

:::

**a brief introduction of all that is going to happen eventually.**

:::

When Fred kisses her it's sunshine, laughter, fireworks – and he kind of tastes like Sugar Quills.

When George kisses her it's thunder, rain, gravity – and he kind of tastes like desperation.

Eventually it turns out to be kind of the same thing.

:::

**fire whiskey down your throat; now try to talk.**

:::

He looks at her and it's like first year all over again, because the girl sitting in front of him in the old bar is no longer someone he can recognize as one of his friends, even though they actually were, in a far away time before the entire world came crashing down on top of them.

It has kind of become their thing; hanging out together in places like this. They talk, most of the time. But sometimes he screws up.

"Hey, Ange," he chokes out, the bittersweet taste of Fire Whiskey burning down his throat, finally able to look her in the eye without constantly having to fight against the memories.

"Yes?" she replies.

"Well, I've thought about this for a while and… Maybe he belongs up there, you know."

She frowns, not immediately able to understand what he's talking about. "What do you – "

"Fred."

The name floats in the air between them, just as easily as ever, like they're back in their years at Hogwarts – except that he's no longer the shining half of a golden duo and she's no longer the Gryffindor princess.

"What?" she breathes out, because she cannot truly believe that he just said his brother's name out loud.

"You know, up there in Heaven… with the stars and the angels and all. Maybe he belongs up there with them. Maybe we just weren't good enough for him."

It takes her a second to comprehend this.

And then she slaps him, right in his face, leaving burning finger marks just above his jaw.

"_No_," her voice cuts like a knife, and it feels like it doesn't even belong to her, but she doesn't care. "He doesn't fucking _belong_ up there, George. He belongs _here_. With you and with me. I can't believe you just said that. He's your brother for crying out loud! How could you ever say that he belongs anywhere else than with us?"

She turns around and walks away and the aching hole inside her heart grows bigger with every step she takes.

They don't speak to each other for nearly two months and neither knows if it's intentional or not.

:::

**there comes a turning point eventually; actually, here it is already.**

:::

Rescue arrives in the always blissful appearance of Alicia Spinnet on a sunny Saturday morning halfway through July.

She walks straight into his apartment above his old Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shop (which has been closed for the last few months) and pushes him out of bed.

"You need to get over this," she says to him and it may sound a little heartless, but maybe it's exactly what he needs after everybody else's constant _comfort _and _pity_. Someone to tell him the truth. "I'm not saying you should forget about what happened, because none of us do, George. But you need to get up and start _doing _something, ok? You can't keep walking around here like the living Death himself."

"Alicia…"

She grabs his hand from across the coffee table and her green eyes shimmer in the sunlight.

"I know," she whispers, and he feels like crying all over again because here is someone who actually _does _understand it all. "I know. He was my friend too, George. And it's different from your point of view, I get that. But do you think Fred would have wanted us to pine away by his photograph? Do you think that's what he's _fought _for during the battle?"

She leans forward and kisses his cheek and he's surprised at the way she always seems to get exactly what he's feeling.

He calls Ron. They open the shop together that same afternoon. Angelina stops by – he vaguely guesses Alicia has something to do with it, but frankly he couldn't care less – and he manages to sell her one of his old Trick Wands, even though they both know she'll never use it.

She smiles at him though, and he smiles back at her.

:::

**some kind of memory; a way of trying to understand it all a little better – part 1**

:::

She's never felt anything other than friendly feelings for him, during their years at Hogwarts.

He was just George. Funny, witty, incredibly good at Quidditch, caring George Weasley, with sparkling eyes and a constant smile on his face. She cannot remember a time that she'd actually been truly angry with him.

They talked. They played Quidditch together. He was her Potions partner in sixth year.

But never once, in the entire time at Hogwarts, did she love him like she loved Fred.

And standing here in front of him in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, she actually knows why, even though the answer makes her feel so ashamed of herself, that she's barely able to accept it.

(You see, she just never paid attention. She just never cared to see him as anything else than the other half of the Weasley twins and it makes her feel like the worst person in the world.)

He looks at her and smiles, and for the entire time that it lasts, he reminds her of his brother, more than any other time before. And the thing is, she might have a little trouble now seeing the line between the two of them, and she doesn't know why she never noticed before that there's such a big part inside of him exactly like Fred.

She also thinks she might be going crazy a little.

:::

**some kind of memory; a way of trying to understand it all a little better – part 2**

:::

He might have been in love with her sometimes.

But she was Fred's, and so he let his brother take the spotlight in her life, while he remained the understudy.

He thought he'd accepted that fact years and years and years ago.

(Turns out he actually didn't and it makes him feel like the worst person in the world.)

She looks at him and smiles, and for the entire time that it lasts he feels like _he_'s the one standing center stage right now, because she's never looked at him like this before. And the thing is, he might feel like he's back in first year all over again, thinking that her eyes are the most beautiful he's ever seen.

He also thinks he might be going crazy a little.

:::

**a tiny confession.**

:::

He has a problem with looking in the mirror nowadays.

:::

**an attempt at forgetting.**

:::

Thunder, rain and broken hearts.

The world might as well just end today.

"Oh, come on!"

She dances around in the pouring rain, running all the way down to the playground he and Fred used to play when they were younger and he keeps on chasing after her, kind of feeling like he's flying. Her dark curls are a mess, her summer dress completely soaked through and it's all _violence _and _joy _and _heartbreak _at the same time.

He catches up with her, not caring that he's ruining his shirt and that his shoes are getting dirty and that he has still plenty of workto do. He grabs her hand and she screams when he accidentally tackles them both to the ground.

The rain is hitting their faces rather violently but he closes his eyes and lets it wash away everything.

Not for long though, 'cause before he knows it, Angelina yanks him up again, this time racing him to the swings and for the first time in months he laughs out loud. He laughs and she twirls around to look at him, beaming, before joining him in his laughter, letting the wind and the thunder and the rain take it all away.

It's probably a little childish, because they're twenty after all, but strange enough it's like none of them cares. So he tackles her again and she jumps on his back, until they're both lying in the cold wet grass, trying to catch their breathe.

And then she kisses him and all the laughter on his lips dies immediately.

Because it still hurts.

More than anything, it _hurts_.

And he didn't expect her to be able to ease his pain even the slightest bit, but strangely enough she does. So he kisses her back with everything he has and it really seems as if the world could end today.

She breaks away and he notices she's crying.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out and somehow she ends up lying next to him, with her face buried in the crook of his neck and her arm spread out across his chest. "I'm so sorry, George."

"I know," he whispers and she's barely able to hear him through the thunder. "I know."

:::

**a conversation over coffee at 2 a.m. - kitchen table of The Burrow.**

:::

"George?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think he's still somewhere around us?"

- silence -

"I don't know."

- silence -

"Angelina?"

"Yes?"

"Are you scared of forgetting about him?"

- silence -

"Constantly."

:::

**the worst party ever.**

:::

It's the first of April.

His birthday.

_Their _birthday.

He stands in front of the grave and tries to smile, but the words on the gravestone cut right through his heart and he starts to have trouble seeing clearly through the tears. _It's ok_, he tries to tell himself. _It's ok to feel like this_.

She's standing next to him, her fingers painfully intertwined with his, her face blank, her brown eyes even darker than usual. She stares at the grave in front of her with a complete vacant expression and absentmindedly digs her nails just a little bit deeper in the back of his hand, as he reaches forward and places his present – the newest version of the 'Skiving Snackbox' – next to Angelina's flowers.

"Happy birthday, Freddie."

She lets go of his hand, wraps her arm around his back and pushes herself close to him, not willing to let him see the tears that escape her eyes. They stand like this together for the longest time and somehow it's like he's right there with them.

:::

**a few unspoken words.**

:::

_Let's pretend. Let's pretend you're here and you just pushed our entire birthday cake straight in Percy's face, like you did when we were nine. Let's pretend you're here and nothing hurts._

_I miss the way you made me laugh._

_I know she's yours. And I'm sorry I kissed her. And I hope you'll forgive me eventually for feeling this way. _

_Maybe if you'd just come back to us… _

_Maybe everything would just be better if you were here._

:::

**a contradistinction and another broken moment.**

:::

The sight of his mother bending over Fred's dead body is something he will never forget in his entire life. Sometimes he wakes up at night, screaming and fighting and trying to make it all go away, because that image frightens him more than anything else.

You see, his brother died with a smile on his face, but their mother still cries herself to sleep almost every single night.

And she can barely look at him.

:::

**thoughts on taking chances.**

:::

She wishes she had cared about him more during their time at Hogwarts.

Because you see, George Weasley is actually a rather special person all by himself.

:::

**365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes, 31536000 seconds and a paradox.**

:::

Suddenly it's there. It's May 2nd and twelve entire months have passed since the Battle of Hogwarts. It seems like the longest time ever.

He doesn't mean to, but kind of ends up spending almost the entire day with her, out on the grass behind the castle, both remembering him their own ways.

It seems surreal, knowing that exactly a year ago these grounds were filled with death eaters and fighting Hogwarts students and screams and crying and the red and green flashes of the worst spells imaginable. But right now the sun shines above them and all of a sudden his chest doesn't feel so heavy anymore.

When they Apparate into the Great Hall for the Memorial Service, he is overwhelmed to see how many people actually showed up. There are friends and family members everywhere and also lots of people he doesn't even know, but came anyway to remember the people that died fighting for the world they live in now.

Neville Longbottom walks right up to him and hugs him close, while grinning: "Good to see you, George". He catches sight of Lavender Brown, smiling through her tears, in all her broken beauty and waving at him even though he doesn't remember saying more than a few sentences to her in his entire life. Minerva McGonagall shakes his hand with both of her own, before throwing all formalities away and taking him into her arms like he's her own son. He sees Luna and Alicia and Hannah and Dean and Ron and Hermione and also Harry and Ginny, who's holding little Teddy in her arms.

And then he sees his mother, standing at the edge of the Gryffindor table with is father and his other brothers.

She looks at him and even though she's crying, she smiles at him and he's honestly never felt this grateful in his entire life for someone's smile. Because for the first time, Fred might be standing right beside him, and this is exactly what his brother would have wanted; for everybody to keep on fighting, keep on living, trying to push away all the pain inside with a simply smile.

And his heart is pounding in his chest and he feels the silent tears run down his face, but for the first time in twelve months - 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes, 31536000 seconds – crying kind of feels like smiling.

:::

**maybe it's a little bit like falling in and out of love at the same time.**

:::

"He never seemed like someone who could die, you know."

She walks right next to him through the empty streets, and for some reason she is holding his hand and for some other reason he can't focus on anything else besides the fact that her thump is slowly tracing the lines around his nail and he doesn't have a clue of _why _she's doing it. He might want her to stop, but he might not at the same time and it's all very much confusing.

But suddenly he realizes that she actually said something rather important to him a few seconds ago, so he stops thinking about it immediately and recalls her words inside his head. "What do you mean?"

He looks sideways, but instead of looking back at him she lets go of his hand and drops down on the grass besides the river and looks up at the stars above them. She's silent for a second and then she responds: "You know, I just never thought he'd be the one to die eventually. Out of all of us, I mean. Same thing goes for you. It just didn't seem… possible. Like the two of you were invincible or whatever."

He smiles wryly. "Yeah, well… Maybe I should have died as well then."

She looks horrified. "Excuse me?"

He doesn't want to look her in the eye, so he turns his head away and starts toying with his wand, but she keeps on looking at him, so eventually he continues: "Maybe I should have died as well. You know, everybody always liked him better anyway, so it would have been only fair if I would have vanished right with him, wouldn't it?"

She's silent for a second, and it is rather strange because usually when he says something like that she tries to shake the idea out of his head immediately, angrily snapping that he shouldn't say stuff like that. But this time she doesn't. She doesn't speak for almost a minute, then she finally looks up again.

"You have to stop doing that."

He frowns and looks at her, but she holds up her hand, before he can say something. "No, seriously. I've actually thought about this so let me finish." She takes a breath. "I know you think it would have been better if you both had died that night. I know you think it would have been even better if _you _werethe one that died that night, instead of him. But you know what? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Angelina – "

"No! You can't blame yourself for what happened. You can't! None of us could have prevented it from happening. And if it had been you… - " She stops for a second, shaking her head with disbelief, while her eyes are filling up with tears. "If it had been you as well… I don't think I would have survived, without the two of you." She bites her lip and he doesn't know what to say, because this was definitely not how he wanted to make her feel. "I can't lose you, George. So you have to stop saying things like that. Please… Fred wouldn't have wanted you to feel that way for even one second, so… so…"

She doesn't know what to say anymore. She just sits there, right in front of him, looking at him with those beautiful, _beautiful_ eyes and before he knows what he's doing he leans forward and kisses her softly.

"I'm sorry," he replies as soon as he breaks away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It's… I can't - He's… He's my brother and he…"

She kisses him again, before he can say anything else, and maybe this time it's actually kind of ok.

:::

**the definition of friendship.**

:::

She doesn't know if she can call this friendship anymore.

It's all just a mess of nervous touching, fast racing heartbeats, guilty, short kisses at midnight when they think no one's watching and broken smiles that still remind her somewhat of _him_. She never once in her entire life, imagined that _this _could have happened, but before she actually really understands it, it's already turning into this big, uncontrollable _thing_ that's pretty much taking up every empty space inside her mind.

She can't stop it, though.

And she's not sure if she really wants to.

:::

**confusion.**

:::

He's done with thinking about death.

He feels like it's time to start living again.

He's not sure this is the right way to do it, though.

But she keeps on looking at him like _that_, keeps on nervously brushing his hand with her fingers whenever they walk next to each other, keeps on smiling at him like it actually might _mean _something. And he doesn't know what is right or wrong anymore and if he should stop doing this or continue doing it.

Then Alicia shows up again.

:::

**a different point of view on everything; ladies and gentleman, Alicia Spinnet.**

:::

She decides thisdefinitely needs an explanation.

"So tell me," she starts off, interrupting George half-way through his speech about the newest Wheezes products or whatever, smiling as innocently as humanly possible for her. "What exactly is going on between the two of you?"

They are sitting right in front of her outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, which is absolutely gorgeous in it's new build glory, and for the last half hour she's been watching them being way too nervous and polite and uncomfortable around each other, and she's had enough of it. She needs to know what's going on.

Angelina stares at her. "W-what do you mean?"

"_This_," she replies, waving her hands at the two of them, while rolling her eyes at the way her best friend is now trying to cover it up, looking away like she has no idea what they're talking about. "You. You're acting all… weird. All… secretive. Are you guys dating or something?"

George nearly chokes on his pumpkin juice and turns bright red, muttering something about going to the bathroom, before standing up and disappearing into the shop. Angelina blushes furiously and snaps at her, the second George is out of sight.

"_Dating_?"

Alicia grins smugly. "Still coming to terms with it, Angie?"

"Well," Angelina breathes out. "Well, _no!_ That's just… I mean – we've… To assume that we're… That's just – _why do you think it's any of your business any way?_"

Alicia laughs. "Oh please. I've known you for half of my life. Of course it is my business. So are you? Dating I mean."

Angelina stares at her, frowns and bites her lip, opens her mouth to answer, but closes it again before any sound comes out. She scoffs and turns her gaze away and eventually mutters something inaudible.

Alicia grins. "You have to speak up a little, honey."

Angelina sighs. "I said…," She sighs again then looks up, uncertainty in her eyes. "I said I don't really know, Ally…"

Alicia frowns. "What? Because of Fred?"

Angelina bites her lip, the thought of her ex-boyfriend slightly lingering between them, taking over. "I – I don't know, because it's all just so confusing, I guess. I mean – at first I just wanted to be with him because he reminded my of… of _him_, you know. And it all hurt, but it was also comforting somehow. But then he kissed me and I kissed him back and now it's just – It's just George now. And he's so… He's so…" She almost chokes on her own breath, suddenly getting caught up with all the messed up feelings inside her chest.

When she continues, her voice is nothing but a whisper. "I can't, Ally… I just can't… It wouldn't be fair to _him._"

Alicia is silent for a moment. Then she reaches out and grabs her best friend's hand from across the table. "I know. You and Fred had something no one else had. And that deserves to be remembered. But you know," She slightly hesitates, even though it's only for a second. "I think you also deserve to be happy again." She squeezes Angelina's hand, a soft, sad smile appearing on her face. "It's _ok_ to be happy again. Because honey, you are not dead. George is not dead. And it may sound a little harsh, but you don't have to give up yourself for Fred, you know. He would've hated it if you were doing that."

Angelina shakes her head. "I can't… I mean – I'm not even sure I like George like that."

Alicia laughs out loud. "You're kidding, right?" Angelina stares blankly back at her. "What? You don't think I have eyes in my head? You are more nervous around him than ever! You practically start blushing every single time he talks to you!"

"Well, that is just… that doesn't mean – "

"Yes, it does!" Alicia responds, before Angelina can even finish her sentence. Her friend opens her mouth, but she doesn't give her the opportunity. "Yes, it does! And I'll tell you what it means! It means you like him and not just a little bit. I've known you for so long now. You're just scared because you feel like if you start going out with George, you are letting Fred down. You feel ashamed for liking his brother, because he is dead now, and it feels like you are just trying to replace him. And you know what, maybe you're right. Maybe things would have been different if Fred was still alive! But he's not, Ange. He's not any more." She sighs. "And I miss him too, I really do. Probably more that you would think. And I'm not saying we should just abandon him all at once. But honey, there's this guy – this funny, witty, handsome red haired guy, who makes you smile and laugh and _blush_ again. And you have to stop thinking that that is something bad. Because it is not. It is something you should hold on to. Something you should never, ever be ashamed of."

Angelina stares back at her, the urge to deny it all suddenly gone. When she responds her voice is a little unsteady. "You… You really think that?"

Alicia softly nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. You know, I always thought the two of you would up together. I've been jealous of what you had with him for years. But trust me, all he would have wanted is for you to be happy again. To see you smile and laugh and breathe again." She looks up. She stares at her best friend for what seems to be the longest time. She looks at her tired eyes and her pale face and the exhausted expression on her face. "Honey," she whispers and reaches out her hand to softly touch Angelina's cheek, "It's ok. This is all ok, you know. He would have wanted you to fall in love like this. Fall in love, so that your heart takes over from your head and you remember why it is important to be alive."

Angelina sighs and softly leans into Alicia's palm. "Ally, I can't. I just – I can't say it out loud."

Alicia softly smiles. "That's ok. You don't have to say it yet. We can talk about something else if you want to."

Angelina nods. "Yes, that would be nice."

Silence takes over for a couple of seconds, but then Alicia grins. "So… Tell me, then. Is he a good kisser?"

The expression on her best friend's face is priceless.

:::

**the truth about being alone**

:::

She appears on his doorstep the same night. She rings the bell and she doesn't say anything when he opens. He knows something has changed between them today, but he is not sure what it is exactly. When he came back to sit with her and Alicia, she didn't stay for a very long time. She didn't really look him in the eye, she stumbled when she got up and she only mumbled a few unclear sentences directly to him. And now she's here – standing in front of him, staring him right in his eyes, _stunning _him instantly.

"Why are you – " he starts, but she cuts him off before he has even finished his thought.

She wraps her arms around his neck, pushes herself forward and kisses him.

It's fire exploding in his chest.

Her hand is on his back, sliding up underneath his shirt. His fingers tangle in her hair. She pushes herself against him in ways that make him absolutely go insane.

"Angelina…" her name is nothing but a hoarse whisper on his lips.

"Shut up," she breathes and she breaks away for only a short moment, to look him in the eyes. There's something in her gaze he has never seen before. "George," she whispers and she presses her lips against his jaw. "I am done with feeling guilty."

He stares back at her. He used to think she pictured Fred, whenever she looked at him, but now he knows she's not. She's not, because she just told him that she is done with feeling guilty and he can feel it in every single part of his heart.

He pulls her in and kisses her back and he's alone. He's just George, not _FredAndGeorge_. It doesn't feel as bad as he thought it would.

:::

**a memory.**

:::

Tiny little Ron accidentally hits Fred with a Bludger bat against his head, when they are ten years old. His brother collapses to the ground, passed out for the next ten minutes, but then wakes up again, grinning at Ron's stupidity and then throwing up closely afterwards because of the head injury. Their mum is furious. George is also a little mad, but not because his brother 'could have died', like his mum keeps on screaming, but because Fred won't be able to play in the annual Weasley Quidditch Championships.

"How can we win any match, with you staying in bed?" he complains to his brother, later that week. "There are supposed to be _two _beaters, not just one."

"I know," Fred answers. "But you just have to win without me."

He sighs. "I know. I'll try. Too bad you can't be there, though."

Fred just shrugs. "If you win, I win."

(He suddenly thinks about it, with Angelina soundly sleeping against his bare chest. He thinks about it and he softly smiles, because it's true. It has always been true. If Fred wins, he wins. If he wins, Fred wins. It may have taken him a hit or two in the face to finally realize it, but now he remembers and it makes everything ok.)

:::

**a thought.**

:::

She wakes up, lying on her back, with George's arm completely wrapped around her stomach and the sky outside a beautiful, gorgeous blue. After a while she notices her eyes are wet. She lies there, wrapped up in warmth and thoughts and _love_, letting the tears drip slowly to her ears.

When she remembers Fred, she'll remember him in skies like this.

:::

**all the bad stuff.**

:::

"George," she asks him, a couple of months later. "Do you think it was worth it? The battle and all. Do you feel like we eventually got what we deserved?"

They're lying with their backs on the grass field of the playground, where they first kissed. It's late summer – the air already a little cold, but the sky still filled with sunlight.

He stares up. "Yes. Eventually it was worth it."

She nods and then she opens her mouth as if she wants to add another thing, but decides to stay quiet at the very last second.

He frowns and rolls over to look at her. "What?"

She bites her lip. "Do you remember what you told me in the bar that night? About how he might belong up there."

He slowly nods.

"Well," she turns her gaze away from the sky and looks at him. "Maybe you were right. Maybe a part of him belongs up there, with the stars and all. But mostly," she hesitates again. "But mostly… I think he belongs right _here_."

She leans forward and places her hand right over his chest so she can feel the beating of his heart right through his shirt. "Right here, George. He belongs right here. Don't you think?"

He leans forward and softly kisses her, because he can.

He kisses her and like it has been for the last couple of months now, all the bad stuff he has ever went through fades away.

:::

**a shot at goodbye.**

:::

Sometimes, it's like he's still there.

She knows it won't ever feel like it used to be. But sometimes, when she looks at George, it's like he's right here with them, shining through in all his imperfect glory.

Other times, she looks up at the stars and she's absolutely convinced he's actually up there, in between the stars, sending fireworks through Heaven.

Eventually, she starts believing it is kind of the same thing.


End file.
